Our Love is God
by pact
Summary: Isolation can normally drive one mad- even if you're a disdained demon who has fallen between the cracks of everyone's attention for eight years. They have all been too confident that he wouldn't come back, but Bill has his ways. With desperation, he soon finds himself taking over the mind of a well-loved painter who turns out to be the boyfriend of a certain girl he loathes.
1. Tag, You're It

_A/N: Be warned that this is my first Gravity Falls fic and I absolutely have not read any fics of this fandom yet. This pretty much means whatever popular headcanons most fans agree on, they probably won't apply here._

 _I'm also still not entirely certain where this fic will lead but it'll be much appreciated if you tell me what you think!_

* * *

He's asleep. He knows that very well. Whether that's a factor of the procedure or not, the case that he's positively aware that he's in a dream feels all too surreal for him. It's not even his dream to begin with. It's Stan's, and he's not entirely sure what's supposed to be happening here.

The young man stands in the middle of a plain green meadow, barely a touch of wind could be detected. The sky is flushed pink and twinkled gold over the lush field. Even if he squints, he could barely make out any form or shape from afar. Where's Stan? This is _his_ dream after all. He hesitates, his arms folding over his chest. He has been assured that this experiment would be completely harmless and since that reassurance had come from Ford himself, then he knows that there's nothing to be afraid of. He could wander around and come across some kind of enormous supernatural being but in the end, he'll just wake up and disregard the prior events.

"Okay, let's do this then." He convinces himself with a deep intake of breath.

Finally, he takes a few steps forward—his bright cerulean eyes taking a gander of his surroundings in hopes of catching sight of anything other than grass.

He continues to walk with no particular destination in mind.

Before long, he feels himself growing restless. Knowing Stan, he had expected the old man's dreams would be a lot more obscene and crummy than this one. This dream has more of a Ford touch. Slowly but surely, he could already feel the strength draining from his knees from treading on for far too long. He didn't even know that's possible when you're in a castle in the air.

Goddammit, if he had known this is how old people dream, he wouldn't have volunteered to do this in the first place.

At long last, a familiar bark of laughter captures his attention and the young blond whips his head up in an attempt to look for the source. He knows Stan's laugh anywhere. It's rambunctious but hoarse at the same time, a sound he's gotten all too accustomed to as much as he doesn't want to. Taking a few more steps further, he finally catches a glimpse of the Mystery Shack from afar.

 _Fuck yes._

With a grin curling his lips, he hastily picks up his pace. He could see the shack growing nearer the longer he sprints, Stan's laughter getting even louder. For the first time in his life, he's not even annoyed by the mere sound of it. The old man's laughter is soon joined in by a delighted one and it doesn't take him another second to recognize it as Mabel's. Now knowing that she's also in the dream—even if it's not really her—the young man grins wider.

Until an object instantly puffs up in front of him in a thick blast of grey smoke.

"BOO!"

A yellow traingular object comes up in front of him, its large one eye beaming down at him. He lets out a fleeting scream, his feet skidding to a halt before losing his balance and falling down on his rear. He gawks up at the floating shape in front of him, completely bewildered. It appears to be sporting a black tie over what he could assume would be its chest and a thin top hat floating over the tip of its shape. The pattern of a pyramid fades down to its lower half and its eye still continues to take him in as if it could see every negative quality he has and even likes him more for it.

It bears a strong resemblance to the Eye of Providence and for a second, he believes that it _is_ the all-seeing eye of God.

Until it starts cackling at his misfortune.

"Oh boy, you should've seen the look on your face, kid!" Its voice sounds naturally mocking, layered with faint echoes. He doesn't like it already. "Sorry," It snickers in an impudent manner. "I didn't know the word 'BOO' still has its charm." A thin black cane materializes out of thin air and the yellow creature twirls it around with one of its dark thin arms.

"Oh god…" The blond murmurs in utter bewilderment.

"You can just call me your new lord and master for all of eternity!" The creature corrects him all too enthusiastically as it draws nearer to his face. "Or Bill, if you want to be casual about it."

He struggles to find his voice. What the hell does Stan dream about? Is he part of some fucked-up cult?

"…w-what are you?" He finally manages to croak out, backing away a bit in an attempt to maintain some safe distance between them.

Its large single eye blinks at him. "Weren't you listening? I just told you! Wow, you _deaf_ initely need to clean your ears, kid." It cackles again, louder this time as it brings up its hand to wipe a nonexistent tear from its eye. "Get it? DEAF-INITELY! I'm a riot." It continues to laugh at its own joke—but then the young man realizes that since its name is Bill, then it's mostly likely that the creature is a guy.

Bill lowers down to meet his eyes and the blond doesn't know why but he could _feel_ the creature smiling at him.

"So what brings you here?" Bill asks, interested. "You're a new face."

"I-I… I… I… I… um…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've got one eye. Don't have to be rude about it." Bill narrows his eye at him before drawing away, crossing his arms over his head—isn't the entirety of his body technically his head though? "So who are you? And what are you doing here in Stan's dream, hmm? Is there some kind of fantasy the old man has that I yet to have the misfortune of witnessing?"

"What…? N-No!" Finally, the blond comes back up to his feet—his heart pounding a mile a minute. "I'm not part of his dream. I'm just _in_ his dream… s-so, can you please get out of my way so I can find him? We're supposed to meet up and—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses." Bill brings up his hands, his cane floating just right beside him. "Are you telling me that you've just somehow managed to get _into_ his dream? That you, by some means, actually exist and are asleep right now?"

The blond pauses, but then slowly nods his head. "Um, yeah…"

"Hm," Bill narrows its eye again. "you must be one smart kid then."

"Not really…"

"No, you are!" The triangular creature draws closer to him again but this time, he manages to politely consider the young male's preference of the stretch of distance between them. "Trust me, I've seen a lot of people try to conjure up machines and whatnot just to get people to share dreams, you know. All of them have been futile. But you…! You must be one hell of a genius to be able to accomplish something as difficult as this!"

Awkwardly, the blond rubs the back of his neck. "I… technically didn't invent the machine. It was Ford—erm, Stan's brother."

"Ford, huh?" Bill folds his arms. "Then why are you here instead of him?"

"I volunteered." The other male shrugs. "He said that he's still not 100% sure it will work and… well, Stan looked sorta desperate to figure out what's been causing his nightmares lately so I've decided to volunteer to check if the machine works or not. So… yeah, I'm not that much of a genius as you think I am."

Bill is silent for a second or two, as though still drinking in the new information. But then he tips his hat to his companion and he smiles—or at least his eye tries to show that he is. "That sure doesn't change the fact that it's pretty daring of you to take this kind of risk. You _do_ know that there were times wherein Ford's inventions didn't work out the way he wanted them to, right? You could have possibly gotten yourself killed. Or worse, you could have wiped yourself from existence if things didn't go well."

What? He didn't know that. Shit, does that mean he could die by the end of this?

"This isn't the first time Ford had tried this kind of invention." Bill goes on, twirling his cane again all too casually. "And let me just tell you, the guy who volunteered… well, let's just say he didn't get his money's worth when he realized that he was forever stuck in the other person's mind. Completely forgotten by everyone. But I'm sure Ford has told you all about that which is why that makes you one hell of a brave kid." He reaches over to give his only companion a soft friendly punch on the arm.

But the blond feels his pulse leap at the thought of the same thing happening to him.

No, Ford wouldn't let that happen.

Would he?

"You okay there, kid? You look a little green."

"Am I going to die?" The young man blurts out, panic slowly rising in his chest. "I mean, do you _think_ I'm going to die?"

"That's a good question." Bill takes off his hat to scratch the tip of his head. "Do you _want_ to die?"

"N-No!"

"That's swell then! Because I can help you!"

"Huh?" The guy blinks in confusion. "How?"

"It's easy, really." Bill leans his arm over his cane, his single eye seeming to scrutinize the other male's entire being. "I can offer you a deal that you simply can't refuse. I can make sure you live through this and in exchange, you'll let me into your mind."

"What?! No!" The blond quickly shakes his head, his eyes widening at the idea of having someone else take over his brain. "I don't want you in my head! I don't even know what the hell you are!"

"Honestly, I'm offended that neither Stan nor Ford has ever mentioned me after all we've been through." Bill rolls his eye. "But putting that aside, I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. I just need a new friend, that's all. I've been stuck here in Stan's mind for who knows how long. I think I've had enough of his disturbing dreams, thank you very much. Remember that one guy I told you about who volunteered to visit someone else's dream using Ford's machine? I'll drop you a hint," He points to himself, looking cheeky. "that was me. And somehow, I turned into _this_. There's no way I could ever bring myself out into the real world anymore but the least you could do in order to save my sanity is move me to your mind instead. I'm sure your dreams are far more interesting compared to this old man's. I mean, look at this wasteland!"

The guy looks around again, somehow understanding where Bill is coming from. Stan's dream _does_ look pretty dull. Maybe this is his definition of a nightmare—plain and boring. The old guy creates the impression of someone who prefers to get into a lot of adventures. He and his brother always have stories to tell about their great travels together after all.

He swallows a sigh that burns its way uncomfortably through his chest.

Bill doesn't seem to be that bad of a companion. He talks a lot but he looks like he means well, in spite of the perpetual mockery in his tone.

"Promise you'll keep me alive?" He confirms.

Bill gives him a wink. "I don't back out on my word. Deal?"

"Okay." Finally, the blond nods. "Deal."

Bill's nonexistent grin reaches his eye as he offers his hand, suddenly engulfing it in a spark of blue flame out of nowhere. "Let's shake on it."

The blond swallows the lump stuck in his throat before reaching over and shaking the creature's hand. It feels colder than he thought it would, especially since the blue flame turns out to be very misleading. Before he could have the chance to pull his hand away though, Bill's grip clenches tighter and yanks him closer.

In a deep voice that completely contrasts his usually light mocking one, the creature bellows: **_"TAG, YOU'RE IT!"_** His eye suddenly alters to a deep shade of red. The guy fails to grasp the opportunity to actually comprehend what's happening and to react to it as fast possible when warmth spreads throughout his body and he abruptly feels light on his feet. He screams upon catching on the fact he's literally floating in the air, Bill's hand nowhere near his anymore.

In fact, Bill is absolutely nowhere to be seen at all.

But then, standing on the grass remains his own body.

Wait, what?

His body?

He then sees his own head tilt up to look at him, his own lips curling to a shit-eating grin. "See ya, kid!" Bill's voice comes out instead of his and just like that, he realizes that he's no longer in control of his physique.

"Wha-?! No! Wait! What did you-?!"

He fails to finish his sentence when a blaze of light suddenly blinds him.

* * *

Bill opens his eyes. His _two eyes._ Whoa, what a change. He's welcomed by the sight of Ford looking down at him in genuine concern. It doesn't take him more than a second to know that he's in the underground laboratory. He knows this place as well as Ford does—or at least, he used to. Things look a bit different now. The place appears to be newly renovated. The computers, machines, and gadgets… everything looks so advanced.

"Kid, how are you feeling?" Ford's voice cuts through his thoughts and Bill slowly sits up, mentally cursing the damn body he's in for having no strength at the moment. It's like being inside Pine Tree again. Perhaps being a volunteer to Ford's experiment has weighed too much stress on the kid. He lets out a groan, his hand coming up to caress his head. As much as he enjoys the painful ache throbbing in his skull right now, he needs to focus on his surroundings and make sure Ford doesn't detect anything different about him.

The last thing he needs right now is the Pines family ruining everything again.

"My head hurts…" He feigns a wince, his voice coming out croaky with sleep.

Ford gives him a pat on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you did well. Stan's still sleeping peacefully." Bill follows the old man's gaze to see Stan lying on a bed beside his, a silvery helmet settled on his head. Multiple wires could be seen connected to it but Bill has already grown bored of looking at it so he directs his gaze back at Ford. Ford returns his stare. "This is the first time in a long time that he's slept this long. I guess whatever it is you did there, you saved him from his nightmare. You can give me the details tomorrow. I'm sure you're tired."

"Uh… yeah." Bill plays along. "Ooh boy, I sure am tired. I should get to bed."

Ford doesn't seem to notice anything odd as he reaches over to take off the helmet from the blond's head. "Get going then. Mabel woke up just a few minutes ago and is in the kitchen."

"Mabel?" Bill finds himself asking before he could stop himself, his mind immediately looking for a face to put on that name.

 _Oh, Shooting Star._

Ford seems to have caught on his inquisitive tone though for he looks back at him in slight surprise. "…you're not suffering from memory loss, are you?"

"Nope!" Bill shakes his head, his tone coming out livelier than he intended. "Just… dizzy. Words sink in slower than I like, ya know?"

Ford doesn't look convinced. "Yeah… you do sound a bit off…"

Taking this as a hint to get the hell out of there, Bill jumps up to his feet and dusts his pants. "Well, I'd best be out of your way. I'll go see what Shoo—ahem, _Mabel's_ up to." He doesn't take the bother to wait for the old man's response as he heads for the elevator nearby, content that it's still located where he last saw it. He needs to lay low for now. He can't afford having anyone be suspicious of him. It wouldn't be that challenging to play along with whatever kind of life this body has, right? He just needs to wait a little bit longer for his abilities to come forming back to their full potential. The Pines family are a bunch of idiots if they thought making Stan remember everything will only bring back the sole images of his memories. If he remembers, then it exists.

And of course, Bill Cipher always deems himself as a pretty memorable guy.

When he gets his powers back, he will have them on their knees and groveling for his mercy.

Not like he'd give them any. Or maybe he will, just to get their hopes up before crushing them down again.

Soon enough, he nears the kitchen where the light is on. Through the doorway, he sees a young girl—most likely in her early 20's—seated on the dining chair with a pint of ice cream on the table. Her soft dainty features are painted silver with moonlight from the wide window nearby. Her soft auburn curls appear to be disheveled, as if she had just gotten out of bed. She's sporting a pink over-sized sweater and a pair of men's baby blue boxer shorts, one sleeve of her sweater sliding down to reveal her bare shoulder.

She's eating ice cream by herself silently, looking bored.

This isn't _the_ Mabel Ford is talking about, is he?

For how long had he been in Stan's mind?

As if feeling his stare, Mabel catches his eyes and Bill almost flinches in surprise. Even though the Shooting Star that he knows has grown to an undeniably stunning young lady, she still has that somewhat dorky smile. Bill could only guess that she's an adult now, but she still seems to have the exuberance of youth as she bounces up from her seat.

"Will!" Before Bill could react, she suddenly throws herself in his arms as though that's something she normally does. Which she probably does. "I was so worried! Uncle Ford wouldn't even let me into the laboratory anymore because I couldn't stop fretting over you. I couldn't even sleep!" She pulls back a bit to meet his eyes and Bill has only come to realize that her lashes are quite longer than he thought. "Don't ever do stupid stuff like volunteering in taking part of Uncle Ford's experiments ever again, understand? That's Dipper's job."

Not entirely sure what to say (and perhaps feeling a bit confused as to why their bodies are pretty much pressed up against each other with his hands still on her waist), Bill just shrugs. "Sure thing."

A smile scatters light into Mabel's dark eyes and to add even further confusion to the demon, she stands up to the tips of her toes to plant a swift peck on his lips.

"Good!" She nods in content. "Wanna eat ice cream with me for now before hitting the sack?"

 _Oh boy._


	2. Mrs Potato Head

_**A/N: Okay, I may have some kind of idea as to where this fic will lead up to!**_

 _ **Trigger warning: Bill will be having sadistic and abusive tendencies. Whether or not he will act on those tendencies, I'm still not sure.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

Nights at Gravity Falls prove to be unbearably frigid compared to their sweltering days. Bill never really noticed it until the very moment Mabel had refused to let go of him on the bed, obviously seeking warmth from his body. It's baffling how deep in slumber she was but had still managed to maintain an iron grip on Bill's shirt. It literally took him fifteen minutes (or perhaps longer than that) to be freed from her clutches and much to his relief, the girl barely moved from the bed.

Bright blue eyes stare right back at him as he brings up his fingers to feel his cheeks, finding his own reflection doing the same. Being in someone else's body feels too good to be true. In fact, being in _Will's_ body feels a hell lot better than being in Pine Tree's body. He had long taken his shirt off to expose lean muscles, something he's certain that Pine Tree doesn't have even though he hasn't seen him yet. But come on, those noodle arms are of no use from the start. He doesn't even want to be _reminded_ of the sensation of the tremendous physical weakness that kid has. Just when he's about to reach for the small splotch of birthmark located near his collarbone, he finds a long scar imprinted on his right palm.

He looks down at his hand, his left hand coming up to run his fingers over the scar's ridges and its jagged edges. Gross. How did this happen? Shrugging it off, Bill focuses back on the full-body mirror in front of him while still keeping tabs on his 'girlfriend' whose reflection could also be seen from the mirror. He bites on his lip and takes in his appearance again. He runs his fingers through his unruly slightly curled blond hair, his fringes revealing his forehead where a birthmark that almost looks like a star could be seen.

In contrast to his lean body, his face looks fragile. He has that choir boy look going on and frankly, Bill doesn't know what to think of that. At least the black stud earrings make him look less like a kid.

He puts his shirt back on and opts for the drawers, hoping he could find his stuff and learn more about this guy's life. Unfortunately, he couldn't figure out which stuff are his and which are Mabel's. In spite of living for thousands of years now, he still couldn't find it in himself to fully figure out all these gender norms humans have. He picks up a Japanese comic book, raising a brow at the cover that shows two drawn boys getting frisky in a closet. Now this has caught his interest. He carefully flips through the pages, but then eventually gets bored and puts it back down.

 _Been there, done that._

After a few more minutes of thorough search, he eventually finds a black leather wallet hidden under pairs of boxer shorts. He opens it without a trace of thought and manages to find a driver's license with his face—Will's face, if you wanna get technical—on it.

"Bingo." He murmurs with a wide grin.

So from now on, he will be going by the name of William Dudson; a twenty-four year old obvious photogenic. No really, Bill has to admit the guy knows how to look good on an ID. He slips the card back and proceeds to scour through the wallet, only coming across a few credit cards, some cash and a small piece of paper with Will's name on it for some reason. Bill clicks his tongue in annoyance before going through the drawers again.

He then finds a magazine with Will on the cover.

 **'Top 15 Hottest Eligible Bachelors in California!'** can be seen printed on the cover in large red letters. Well, fuck. Mabel has really scored, huh? He always figured she will anyway considering the abundant amount of effort he had seen her put into achieving that summer romance she had always craved for at such a young age. Bill picks the magazine up and flips through the pages until finally coming across the one he's looking for. An entire page displays a picture of Will looking all prim and proper in a well-tailored suit as he shakes hands with some guy whose face doesn't make it to the shot.

 **Name: William Dudson  
DOB: July 12, 1996  
Height: 182 cm (6'0)  
Weight: 70 kg**

 **The heir to the grand Dudson Conglomerate, William—or Will, as he prefers to be called—isn't just all about going to valuable meetings and shaking hands with influential people. During his spare time, he takes genuine delight in painting. His first show was set up at the remarkable Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago and from there, his side-career as an artist has skyrocketed! He's now currently working on four pieces for Hearst Castle and a few more which he has decided to keep under wraps for now. An accomplished artist and heir to an affluent group, it is indeed a huge shock to everyone that he's still single!**

Bill promptly stops reading from there when he hears Mabel shifting on the bed behind him.

"Will?" He fights back a flinch upon hearing her sluggish voice. He looks back over his shoulder, making sure the magazine is hidden from her line of sight. Mabel had sat up from the bed as she looks at him with an inquiring yet sleepy look. "What are you doing? Come back to bed. You're not gonna have a good morning if you don't get enough sleep."

The urge to protest and tell her to just go back to sleep tempts the demon, but then he figures that's probably something Will wouldn't do. Based on his fleeting encounter with him, something tells him the guy isn't that much of an authoritative person. He's more of an annoying wimp if anything, really. Bill bites back a sigh and carefully slips the magazine back into the drawer before straightening up and heading back to bed. Mabel lies back down, her brown hair fanning across her pillow and her hand stretched out to meet his.

Holding hands on the bed? This girl is seriously giving him diabetes.

But what can he do? Will would have most likely held her hand in this situation and Bill honestly can't afford to raise any suspicions right now. He fights back a grimace as he reaches for the girl's hand and finds it in the darkness, accompanied by the radiance of the moon spilling through the window. Just having her skin against his is enough to have a cold repelled weight settle in the center of his stomach. Gorgeous or not, this woman is still one of the reasons why he had spent years in the old man's mind and thinking about that just makes his blood boil.

He'd smack her if he could.

But that will have to wait. Besides, it's those two old men and her brother that really piss him off. They will be his main dish and this woman will merely be his side-dish. In fact, she'd make a nice whore once he has the power to hold the reins of the universe. Yeah, he should take that into consideration.

"What were you doing over there?" Mabel asks as Bill lies down beside her.

"Stuff." He shrugs, hoping his brief answer would lead her to think that he's too tired to talk. Luckily, it did.

He feels the brunette moving closer to him and he gets a whiff of her soft green apple scent.

Wow, that's nice.

* * *

 _"See that fine young blonde in a purple dress? That's Pacifica."_

 _Will follows his father's gaze to see the Northwest heiress speaking to a few other elites who appear to be around her age. He swallows uncomfortably. If Pacifica is aware of each false step in her course of existence, then it's not laid out for everyone else to see. All in all from the way she holds herself, to the way she puts her thoughts into words, to that manner of unequivocal firmness in her dark cerulean eyes said she could do anything without a hitch. It's overwhelming, to say the least. Will already doesn't feel particularly comfortable being in a soiree to begin with._

 _And yet his father still expects him to court the blonde heiress?_

 _He holds a deep intake of breath as his father gives him a clap on the back. "You can do it, son. The feud between the Northwests and the Dudsons can finally be put to an end as soon as you reel her in."_

 _Will suppresses the urge to point out how ridiculous his father sounded whenever he refers to a girl as some meat they could catch. "I don't know…" He rubs his arm uncertainly. "Can't you just try to talk to her father?"_

 _"We've done that, William. Nothing goes through that man's thick skull. Ah, look. She's alone now. Now's your chance."_

 _Before Will could have the chance to protest, he's quickly nudged towards Pacifica's direction. He swallows again. He could feel his hands getting clammy. He couldn't think straight and his brain is constantly searching for other people to hopefully approach Pacifica and steal his chance of ever having to interact with her. He glances back over his shoulder to see his father now fixed on talking to other people much to his relief._

 _At least that's one pressure off his shoulders._

 _But just as he looks back, he suddenly finds himself colliding against a petite frame. Or to put in better words, a girl practically throws herself in his arms in the sloppiest manner possible. The harsh scent of alcohol engulfs his senses as the girl in his arms struggles to keep her balance, her hands coming up to tightly grab his shoulders for stability._

 _A shameless laugh bubbles out of her mouth and she looks up at him, her grin meeting her chestnut-hued eyes. "Whoops, I think I just_ _ **fell**_ _for you! Ayooooo!" She laughs again and slaps his chest. "I'm just kidding! I'm just really naturally charming!"_

 _Will blinks in surprise, not entirely sure what to do. Some people are looking at them with bewilderment but luckily, his father still appears to be too busy bragging about their wealth to notice anything. Pursing his lips, Will helps the girl stand steadily to her feet as his eyes frantically scan his surroundings in search for her family or her friends. He's never seen her before. He always attends important soiree's such as this one but this girl is new._

 _"Um, who are you with?" He decides to ask instead. "I could take you to them. You're obviously intoxicated and—"_

 _"Oh, don't worry about me!" The girl pats his cheek and he recoils a bit. "I just had a little bit of fun juice is all! But if you reeeeally want to know, I'm here as Pacifica's plus one! She's busy talking to other rich people though and the buffet table was open so—" She abruptly stops her chatter, her smile fading. "…I feel sick."_

 _Shit._

 _"O-Oh…! Err, the comfort room is over there. Just turn left—"_

 _"No, I need you to take me there. Now!"_

 _"O-Okay…!"_

 _After another fleeting scan of their surroundings, he takes the girl's wrist and leads her out of the room and to the corridor. He could hear the girl moaning and groaning from time to time and he picks up his pace. The last thing he wants right now is to have her throwing up all over the corridor or him._ _ **Especially**_ _him. His father would be more than furious if he gets this suit stained. Goddammit, why does he have to go through this now? He never wanted to be here in the first place._

 _"Oh God, I don't think I can make it…" The girl squeezes his arm. "I…"_

 _"We're almost there."_

* * *

The morning sky is a soothing, watercolor blue with clouds dyed pink where the fresh new sun has adorned them with its radiance. The air is damp but rich with the fragrance of leaves and loam. Bill still finds it so surreal that he's actually back and he never thought he'd be this happy to be in this hick of a town again. But what the hell is up with his dream last night? It seemed like a clear memory of Will. Huh, that's new.

He could hear the shower running from the bathroom nearby, realizing just now that Mabel isn't lying beside him anymore. Taking her absence as an opportunity, he hastily gets up from the bed and walks over to their stuff again in hopes of finding out more about his body. Though, this would have turned out to be a lot of easier if he has most of his powers back. He could have just easily flipped through Will's memories instead of just dreaming them up every time he's in slumber. He catches sight of a shoulder bag laid on the desk nearby and makes a grab for it, not wasting any more time as he looks through its contents.

He fishes out a cellphone.

Perfect.

Putting away the lockscreen, an image of a smiling Mabel on a picnic mat flashes on the screen. Bill disregards it and opts for the messages, scanning through every note he finds. There are a few messages from Pine Tree though most of their interactions are about confirmations of when and where to meet up. The last one is about meeting up at the Mystery Shack for a week-worth of vacation, which is probably why they're here. There are also a few from unfamiliar names but when he comes across Mabel's, he taps it open. He cringes at the sight.

So apparently, he will now have to call her either 'babe' or 'pancake'. Can this relationship get any lamer?

Obviously it can.

Because they also sometimes call each other Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head.

What in the ever-loving fuck?

But then a debacle of a different nature meets his ears. Someone's knocking on the door. He shoves the phone back into the bag and makes his way to it, scratching his stomach under his shirt as he does so. He pulls the door open and much to his pleasant surprise, Pine Tree stands before him. Much like his sister, Dipper has grown into a fine young man. Dark circles are evident under his eyes but they turn out to be endearing on him. He's rather lanky but that is to be expected. He looks very much like his sister, though it seems height didn't do well for him. Bill could easily guess the twins are of the same height, making him tower over the brunet.

"Hey, man." Pine Tree gives him a small casual smile. "How did the experiment go last night?"

Bill grins at him. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. You're pretty swell with the latter anyway, aren't ya?"

"Pssh," Pine Tree chuckles. "I know you won't shut up about it later. Anyway, I just came here to tell you that breakfast is ready. Candy wouldn't let us eat unless everyone's at the table."

"Oh, gotcha." Bill makes a shooting gesture with his hand as he gives him a wink. "Just give us ten minutes, Pine—" He stops when he notices that the sound of shower has ceased. His grin switches to a devious smirk. "On second thought, give us longer than ten minutes. It depends on whether or not I get to have a morning fuck with your sister."

And just like that, Pine Tree's smile drops. "What—"

Bill slams the door shut to his face and snickers.

"Sucker."

"Who was that?" Mabel's voice catches his attention and he turns around to see the brunette stepping out of their bathroom, a pink towel wrapped around her body and her hair still slightly wet but obviously dried by a towel.

"Your brother. He just wants us to know that breakfast is ready."

"Oh, nice!" Mabel beams at him. "Candy told me she'll be making breakfast today. You have not _lived_ until you've tasted her cooking." Then, as though she's done this a lot of times before, she casually takes off her towel and drops it to their bed before heading over to the cushioned chair nearby where her fresh clothes are laid.

Bill shamelessly takes in the sight.

Delicately slender with a face that can be somewhat too soft, Mabel could have easily manipulated any being from every dimension with practiced seduction. Including Bill. But luck is on his side for he knows she's too thick-headed to be aware of what she can be capable of. As he watches her put on a pair of frilly baby pink underwear, he licks his lips.

 _Yep, I can live with this._


End file.
